Sighs of a Summer Night
by The Cypress Scholar
Summary: Oneshot. Jack is still in love. Popuri isn't. How does she explain herself to him? Jack x Popuri and also possible, possible implications of Popuri x Ann, although it's up to you to decide. R&R please.


Sighs of a Summer Night

Author's Notes: Just a quick one-shot to whet my appetite for fanfiction. I am in the middle of my exams at the moment, so now is probably not the best time, but this idea came to me and I decided that it would be a good idea to write it down before I forgot. The story can be set anytime (although I based it on the 1950s) and you can interpret it however you want. That's the beauty of literature, in the end, its your interpretation that is the most valid to you.

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The young summer was beginning to fade into the inevitable decline of fall, yet still grand and beautiful in its graceful close. As the yellow curtains were blown through the open window of the moonlit bedroom by a still sun-warmed breeze, Jack and Popuri kissed quietly. One was still clinging to the promise of many more romantic summers to come; the other had already passed through spring, summer and fall, and was now quietly contemplating bringing to a close what they now considered to be the cold, uncomfortable chill of winter, of a heart no longer given to another.

They did not kiss passionately, but sensitively and tenderly. Theirs were lips that had known each other for a long time, and at least one pair thought that their sojourns had not ended and never would.

Finally, it was Popuri who broke the kiss and looked away, not being able to bring herself to look at the man she was about to destroy.

"What's wrong Popuri?" asked Jack, wondering why she had suddenly stopped.

There was no answer. She breathed in and out slowly, almost as if she were trying to pace herself; counting the breaths before she had to tell him.

"Jack, you know I love you…" she began.

There was no need for more. He knew. Perhaps he had always known that it was doomed from the start; nothing more than an emotional alliance to shield herself from the truth, a pact of love that had never really kept to its word. There really was no need for more bitter, anguished words, but Popuri felt an explanation was in order. She owed Jack at least that.

"I do love you. Honestly," she protested, almost to herself, "It's just that I don't think it can get any better. It's all downhill from here."

"I should have known," muttered Jack, he too almost to himself, "I should have guessed from the beginning. The way you two always hang around together, shutting me out, just keeping to yourselves and trying to shut the world out-"

"Jack!" exclaimed Popuri, "It isn't like that!"

"Then what _is _it like?" snapped Jack, before reconsidering, "No, no, it doesn't matter. You deserve happiness Popuri…in whatever shape and form it may take."

He got up. She still hadn't looked at him and he hadn't looked at her since she confessed. Going over to the window, he turned around and began climbing down the rope ladder.

"I'll see you tomorrow I suppose," he said nonchalantly, although Popuri could detect the faint tremor of hysteria in his voice, "I've got to buy some chickens."

Then all she could hear was the rattle of the wooden steps and the slowly fading sound of a boy sobbing, his heart torn with grief.

She sighed bitterly and lay back on the red covers of the bed, her pink hair flowing out of her head and across the sheets, like a deluge of pain, anger and sorrow all mixed together into one wretched cocktail of misery. Her face was expressionless, which was her ultimate expression of grief.

She did not know how long she lay there. It could have been seconds, minutes or hours. All that she next perceived was the return of the wooden rattle and the lusty breath of a female as she cleared the windowsill and landed trainers-first on the wooden floor. Popuri didn't have to look; she knew who it was.

"Did it go alright?" asked Ann, sneaking over to the bed.

"As well as breaking a boy's heart can possibly go," replied Popuri bluntly, staring at the ceiling.

"Oh well," answered Ann quietly, "What's done is done."

Popuri snorted. She did not look at the girl who worked all day in a bar and skipped stones by the ocean's edge at night. She avoided the gaze of the tomboy, who was the farmer's female equivalent, the very model of a model of a woman with all the lusty, youthful traits of a young boy. Maybe that was why they were so close and why Popuri considered her respectable.

"Well, this is quite a tally Popuri my girl," grinned Ann, sitting on the bed besides Popuri, "That's quite a track record you're chalking up now. First Kai, then Jack and now…you say it."

"Ann," warned Popuri with what remained of her patience, "You damn well know who this new one is."

"Yeah," I know, replied Ann, swinging her legs and admiring the new laces in her shoes, "But I want to hear _you_ say it."

"Just leave it Ann!" snapped Popuri, looking up at her for the first time, "Just leave it, ok?"

"Sorry," apologised Ann, looking down, "You're right; I shouldn't be so cheerful about this. But it's hard not to, if you get my meaning."

"I certainly do," growled Popuri, "Now just leave me; just go away for a while!" She pushed her face into the bed and sighed regretfully.

Ann tactfully agreed and walked over to the bookshelf to check if there were any books to read. It wasn't the time just yet. Sooner or later she would get over it, but for now, there were only books to read.


End file.
